STOP AT NOTHING: 'Mark Cole is Bond's US cousin mixed with the balls out action and killing edge of Jason Bourne' Parmenion Books

by JT Brannan

  When the final bullet racked home into the chamber, he saw the figure twitch on the floor. He had heard something, and was searching for the source of the sound.

  Left, right, the sentry looked but could not identify the location.

  Cole adjusted the sight, took aim, controlled the breath, the last figure large in his sight now, clear; and then the man looked up, and Cole caressed the trigger once more and watched in the eerie glow of the night vision device as the powerful Magnum bullet entered through the sentry’s mouth, down through his throat, and out of his back, and Cole could see the hot wet mass of the man’s organs spread over the forest floor.

  Target down.

  50

  Cole had no time to rest on his laurels, letting the sniper rifle swing down on its sling as he grabbed the steering straps of the chute and pulled sharply to the left, drifting back over the tree tops.

  There had been no reaction from the six figures around the grounds yet, and so Cole was confident he had not been discovered.

  He was all too aware though that if the snipers didn’t check in, or if others were being sent to relieve them, their deaths would soon be discovered. And so even though Cole might ordinarily have favoured a more subtle approach, in this particular instance he quickly decided that bold aggression would have to be the order of the day.

  Retrieving his silenced H&K submachine gun from the covered pouch by his side, he pulled it across the front of his body even as his hands went up to the parachute release straps.

  He was just three hundred feet above the deep snow of Steinemeier’s large, open lawn.

  51

  Jeff Duncombe crunched through the deep, crystalline snow that seemed to cover every damn square inch of this forsaken wilderness.

  He knew it was only just outside Innsbruck, but it might as well have been the frozen Arctic, and he exhaled slowly into the cold air, seeing his breath come out as steam in front of him.

  He watched it drift slowly up into the black sky above him, and then he saw it – large, rectangular, coming down from the sky like a giant bat.

  What the fuck?

  Cole dropped from his harness at just twenty feet from the ground, night-vision goggles back on, sniper rifle now discarded, pulling up his H&K and shooting the first guard through the throat even before he landed, feet burying deep into the snow.

  He turned on the spot, firing a rapid double tap into the forehead of another sentry off to his left, then turned again and caught the third man in the face with two more controlled rounds, the fuzzy red image flying back into the strange green, alien landscape described by the goggles.

  Cole raced forward as the fourth man, fifty yards over to the left, started to react, and shot him with a short burst of full auto directly into his centre mass, dropping him instantly.

  Cole continued moving forward as the parachute continued to fall the last few feet, four men already dead before it had even touched the ground.

  Unsuppressed automatic gunfire broke out from the two far corners of the building, and Cole turned and saw the two remaining outside guards firing towards him from behind cover.

  Cole saw a large wooden shelter off to one side, and dove over to it, hiding behind the thick walls as dozens of 9mm rounds drummed into the surface.

  He then heard shouts from inside the house, and knew he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He jumped up at the gap between the low wall and the shelter’s roof, submachine gun raised, and then there was a loud clang and a sudden burst of intense light.

  Ducking back down behind the wall, the anti-glare function of the goggles just managed to catch it in time to save his eyes, but the goggles were now useless as the entire outdoor security lighting system came on, obviously operated by someone inside the building.

  He discarded the goggles, blinked once, twice, and then burst up again, this time opening fire towards the left, catching the guard as he peered out from the corner, one of Cole’s bullets tearing through the man’s cheek.

  He checked right in time to see the last man duck back behind the wall of the corner of the house, and then the front of his field shelter erupted in a hail of gunfire, directed from above and to the front.

  Cole risked a quick glance and saw four men shooting down on him from open windows on the second floor.

  Shit.

  He was about sixty yards to the house by his reckoning, a distance a good sprinter could cover in just six seconds. With his weapons and equipment, however, it would take him more than twice that long, which would be much longer than the shooters would need to kill him.

  He sank down and controlled his breathing, and then removed three thermal grenades from his tactical belt rig.

  He exhaled quickly and violently and pulled all four pins in rapid succession, rising up and throwing them, one to the right corner, the other three towards the first floor windows, hoping his family weren’t in the same room as the shooters.

  Not wasting any time at all, he scooted out of the shelter and broke into a full sprint towards the house, even as he heard the muffled whumpf as the thermal grenades exploded and felt the warmth of the incendiary flames flick at his exposed face.

  He heard the shattering of windows above him, and saw with satisfaction the burning body of the sixth exterior guard staggering away from the corner of the building, trying to roll himself across the snow to put out the flames.

  And then he was at the rear French doors, and with a heavy kick, the doors were smashed open, and Cole was inside.

  Both Dan Albright and Stefan now knew he was there, but it didn’t matter.

  He had made it to the house, and both men would soon be dead.

  52

  Cole swept rapidly through the living area, until movement to his right made him turn, the submachine gun an extension of him that tracked around with him, the trigger depressing almost of its own accord, releasing two subsonic rounds that flew across the room into another agent’s jaw, smashing through the inside of the head and out of the back of the skull on the other side.

  The second man, following his partner through, was momentarily blinded by the spray of thick blood, bone and brain matter, and Cole used the distraction to fire another double tap straight between his blood-stained eyes.

  Sweeping the weapon in tight arcs, Cole moved through the first floor areas, clearing each room in turn.

  At the door, enter from the closed side fast and hard, sweep left to right, weapon tracking smoothly, ready to engage, just as he had learnt in his initially SEAL training over two decades before. Clear! sounded the mental confirmation in his head as each room was passed through, until he was at the foot of the stairs.

  It was always better to fight from the top down rather than the other way around, but there was no time for useless wishes – the situation was how it was, and that was the end of it; he would just have to make do.

  Up above, he could see flames licking around the hall entry on the staircase return, and knew it would be from the thermal grenades he had thrown.

  Hoping the flames would cover him, he took a moment to reload his weapon, and then charged.

  53

  At he reached the top of the stairs, he saw three bodies strewn over the floor, charred and burnt. A sound beyond the flames to his left made him reflexively turn, identify, and fire, and the fourth man he had seen at the window dropped dead to the floor.

  He was close to his family now, he could feel it. But he also knew he had to keep calm, controlled, in charge of his emotions; he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

  And so he also swept each room on this floor, manoeuvring carefully through the flames, his flight suit mercifully inherently flame retardant. He had a feeling there would be no more guards – six in the tree line, six in the grounds, meant that six would probably be in the house. But Cole hadn’t survived so long by taking chances, and so went through each of the second floor rooms, clearing them in turn.

  There was nobody else left on this floor, and as t
he flames from the grenades began to spread, eating away at curtains, wallpaper and plasterboard, Cole turned to the staircase and started up to the third floor.

  54

  There were just two rooms on the third floor, Cole remembered from his previous visits here – a small bathroom off to the right, and a large open-plan games room at the end of a short hallway on the left.

  He checked the bathroom first – clear.

  Then he turned his attention to the games room, stalking down the corridor carefully, very carefully, slow and controlled with each step onto the wooden floorboards.

  He and Stefan had enjoyed good times in that same room, playing pool, listening to music, drinking beer and schnapps and talking and laughing into the small hours of the morning.

  But no longer. Not anymore. This was now the room in which his old friend would die.

  55

  H&K submachine gun raised against one shoulder, Cole pushed open the heavy wooden door with his other hand, moving swiftly into the well-lit room, both hands back on the gun as he scanned, left to right.

  He stopped in the centre, in front of the long, rectangular window with its drop to the back garden.

  Sarah. Ben. Amy.

  They all sat together, huddled against each other as Dan Albright – different now with his shaven head, scarred face and white eye patch – and Stefan Steinmeier – to Cole unchanged physically, but unknown now to him psychologically – aimed their handguns at them, safety catches off, triggers already depressed half way.

  Sarah looked in control at least, and although she looked like she’d been badly beaten, the fire hadn’t gone out of her eyes, the fight hadn’t yet left her, and Cole’s heart swelled for a moment. But then he saw Ben and Amy, terrified, frightened beyond their young ability to comprehend.

  Even when they saw their daddy, the relief in their eyes was only fleeting, seemingly already resigned to a fate described to them by the two hateful men who towered above them, guns raised.

  ‘Mark Cole,’ Albright said, smile wide, ‘at last we meet.’

  ‘Let them go,’ Cole demanded, his voice even.

  Albright laughed. ‘Those aren’t our orders, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit about your orders. Let them go. Now.’

  There was an air of menace in the room that could be felt on a physical level, a rising tension that begged for release.

  Cole looked Stefan in the eye. ‘Why?’ he asked.

  Steinmeier laughed. ‘Why? You ask me why?’ He laughed again, then looked serious. ‘Money, of course. Oh, I know it’s something you don’t have to worry about. You make a million dollars a job, eh, and yet you never offered to help me, offer me work, anything! You know what my police pension is? You wouldn’t wipe your ass with it! Do you know how much a good school costs? University? For three children? A lot more than what I have, my friend. And so maybe I wouldn’t have done it for a hundred thousand, probably not even for a million. But ten million dollars?’ Steinmeier smiled at Cole. ‘You would have to kill ten people for that. I’m only going to have to kill the four of you.’

  Cole felt the rage within him build, but controlled it. They had not killed his family yet, and so must have had a reason for keeping them alive, and Cole knew there was room for negotiation. But what did they want?

  ‘You’re probably thinking of how to negotiate this,’ Albright said cheerfully. ‘The trouble is, there is no way. Mr Hansard wanted your family kept alive so that you could watch them die.’ Albright grinned. ‘Punishment for destroying his plans, he said.’

  Cole didn’t know whether to believe this, but started to react anyway, submachine gun tracking to Albright’s head; and then the unthinkable happened – right in front of him, right before his eyes, before he could react, Steinmeier raised his handgun to little Ben’s head and pulled the trigger, even as Albright pulled the barrel of his own pistol in line with Sarah’s forehead, and then two shots rang out, and Mark Cole’s wife and son were killed, their lifeless bodies slumping to the floor, blood pooling from their shattered skulls.

  Rooted to the spot, Cole watched as Amy shrieked and started running towards him. Steinmeier reached out to stop her, but Albright restrained him, allowing her to run on.

  ‘Daddy!’ she cried as she ran, ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy – ’

  She reached him finally, running to hug him, and then Cole saw a muzzle flash as Albright shot her from behind.

  Amy’s body collapsed into his arms, and he turned around immediately, instinctively covering her body with his even as both men opened fire with their handguns, bullets peppering Cole’s back as he tucked his head in out of the way.

  Cole felt the impact of the 9mm rounds hit him hard through the Kevlar vest, his whole body shuddering as they emptied their magazines into him.

  Cole had tears in his eyes, mixed with the blood of his daughter, as he heard the guns click empty on the other side of the room.

  And then he was on his feet and charging, an enraged figure of pure hate, unbridled bloodlust across his face. Both men were trying to reload, and he got to Stefan first, his right hand chopping down on the man’s right forearm, breaking the bone in two and causing the gun to drop to the floor.

  As Steinmeier recoiled, grunting in pain, Cole steamrollered past him to Albright, just as the half-blind agent raised his reloaded gun to fire.

  Cole grabbed the man’s gun hand and pushed it upwards, a round firing up into the ceiling as Albright pressed the trigger, and then Cole pulled down sharply, twisting the right wrist and forcing the pistol to go spinning out towards the far wall.

  Cole’s knee rose viciously straight up into Albright’s groin, and the scarred agent squealed in pain. Cole moved in to deliver a nerve strike to the neck, but then Steinmeier’s huge, bear-like arms were around him, crushing his shoulders and constricting his chest.

  Cole immediately thrust his head backwards, and he heard the muffled yelp of Steinmeier as his nose was broken. Still in the bear hug, Cole saw Albright coming back for him and reared back, kicking both feet straight into the agent’s chest, sending him staggering back towards the window.

  Cole stamped down on Steinmeier’s foot, then sent his elbow backwards sharply into the big man’s ribs, rewarded by a satisfying crack as some of them broke with the impact.

  Cole then sidestepped out of the bear hug and pushed the injured man forwards across the room towards Albright.

  In the blink of an eye, Cole had reached down to the floor and snatched up Albright’s fallen pistol, aiming it across the room towards Albright and pressing the trigger once, twice, three times.

  Albright had recovered from the blows he had received, and saw Cole raise the gun. At the same time, he saw Steinmeier’s big body hurtling towards him. Intended by Cole as a distraction, Albright instead used it to his advantage, pulling Steinmeier across him even as Cole started firing.

  Steinmeier’s body shook from the impact, all three bullets entering his gut, blood spurting reflexively from his mouth, and then Albright pushed the body back away from himself towards Cole.

  As Cole jinked to the side to avoid the impact, gun moving around Steinmeier’s incoming body, Albright used the brief opportunity and turned to the window, smashing it as he jumped out from the third floor of the house to the garden below.

  56

  Cole got to the window as he saw Albright pick himself up from the thick snowdrift that lay against the side of the house.

  The man looked up and smiled before running off towards the tree line, and before Cole could clear the barrel of the gun over the window frame, Albright had disappeared into the shadows of the garden.

  No you fucking don’t, Cole promised, and then he swung himself out of the window, falling three storeys to the snowdrift below. He was out in seconds, and he took off after the man as fast as he had ever run in his life.

  As Cole entered the tree line, he could hear the first faint sound of sirens in the distance. He knew the area would soon
be crawling with police, security and other emergency services; but he couldn’t let that distract him.

  He saw the line of tracks in the snow ahead of him, ploughing straight through the trees. Cole had been hunting with Stefan before here, and turned to the right, taking the high ground.

  57

  Albright was out of breath, panting hard, pushing himself as hard as he could. He was going fast, he had a big head start, he had to be a long way in front, hadn’t he?

  As he whipped through the trees, he knew he could not slow down; Cole was following, and was going to kill him.

  He had been running all out for what seemed like hours, but what was in fact only minutes, and had still not heard any sign of Cole behind him. Could he afford to slow down, to take it easy? No. Not until he was well and truly safe.

  He could see the trees widening out up ahead, the ground sloping down at an ever-steepening angle until it opened up onto a hillside, and he started to wonder what he should do. Should he just try and hide in the trees, hope Cole couldn’t find him? Or just keep running, even going out into the open, and just hope he could keep his advantage?

  He never had time to think of an answer, as a movement caught his eye and he turned his head to see Mark Cole hurtling towards him.

  58

  Cole’s body made hard contact with Albright’s, and he could tell the wind had been knocked out of the man.

  Cole had rolled off to the side, and was surprised when Albright caught him in the face with the heel of his boot, kicking up at Cole from the floor.

  Cole staggered back, and Albright took the opportunity to get back to his feet, pulling out a Gerber combat knife as he did so.